


No-One Here Is Safe

by GingerAle3



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Burns, M/M, Post-Episode: e169 Fire Escape (The Magnus Archives), Treating injuries, canon-typical poor communication, the boys need to talk but they aren't quite ready yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerAle3/pseuds/GingerAle3
Summary: Martin gets burned in Jude's realm and doesn't realise. Stopping to treat it gives both of them something approaching a moment's peace.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893973
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93





	No-One Here Is Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the TMA Hurt/Comfort Week on tumblr (themagnuswriters)
> 
> 25/8 - Tuesday  
> Treating Injuries
> 
> Wrote the last bit of this pretty tired, so please let me know if I made any spelling or grammar errors! :)
> 
> (Title from Sick of Hell Or High Water by The Rescues)

It took Martin a while to realise that he’d been burned. It must have happened relatively early in their trek through the burning building, but it was so hard to tell for sure. Between the sparks constantly stinging at his skin, the smoke that twisted through his lungs and made his whole chest ache and the constant, inescapable heat that filled the whole place, he hadn’t realised that that particular patch of pain was attached to him instead of just being a part of the environment. As they neared the exit though, both of them quiet and caught up in their own thoughts, he noticed that while the heat was slowly, almost reluctantly retreating from the rest of him, it seemed to be lingering in one part of his arm.

Waiting until Jon was distracted with Knowing which way they should go next, Martin flipped over his arm. Sure enough, there on the outside of his forearm was a ragged patch of almost raw-looking red skin, an itchy, tingling sort of pain covering it. Morbidly curious, he lightly pressed a finger to the burn, quickly pulling it away with a hiss of pain as the pain flared up. Right, shouldn’t have done that. At his sound of pain, Jon’s eyes flashed over to him, widening in horror as Martin didn’t react quickly enough to hide it. There was a look of pain in his eyes as he closed the gap between them, carefully taking Martin’s arm in his hands and inspecting the injury.

“You’re hurt.” The words were quietly devastated, and it wasn’t hard to read the guilt on Jon’s expression. Martin pulled his arm away, already shaking his head.

“It’s fine Jon, really, it barely even hurts.” Jon’s expression shifted again, guilt giving way to determination and focus as he quickly glanced around the area. They were out of the burning building, but all around them were houses and other assorted buildings, destroyed in various different ways. Some were charred and blackened by flames, others seemingly blown apart by explosives or shaken apart at their very foundations. Jon’s eyes seemed to lock onto an empty wall, but Martin got the distinct impression that he was instead seeing something on the other side of it.

“This way.” His voice was gentle, but left no room for argument, and Martin didn’t try to resist as he took his hand and led him between two buildings. They ducked through the wreckage of a house that seemed to have had some sort of vehicle rammed straight into it, and around another one which seemed to be waist-deep in water despite the complete lack of flooding in the surrounding area. Finally they came to what seemed to be a small townhouse. There was an eviction notice stuck to the front door, and a pile of what certainly seemed to be the sum of some unfortunate soul’s earthly possessions sat on the pavement, much of it broken or damaged. In spite of the notice, the door wasn’t locked, and Jon led Martin inside.

As suggested by the scene outside, the house was largely gutted. Some basic furniture remained, though much of it was crooked or askew, seemingly shifted and checked over by uncaring hands. Making his way to the kitchen, Jon checked the taps by the sink. After a moment, a stream of water sputtered to life, quickly running clear. Jon held his spare hand under the it, seemingly checking the temperature, before nodding his satisfaction and pulling Martin closer to the sink.

“Hold your arm under there. It should cool the injury and reduce the pain. I just need to grab something from the pile outside.” Before Martin really had a chance to respond, he pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and darted out of the kitchen. With nothing else to really do, Martin tentatively shifted his burn under the stream and let out a sigh of relief. Instead of the sudden flare of pain he’d been worried about, the water lent a gently numbing sensation, as though all the heat was being washed away like dirt.

A few minutes passed, which would have been more concerning if he couldn’t hear the loud noises of objects being shifted around coming from outside, occasionally accompanied by the sound of Jon grumbling something he couldn’t quite hear. Other than that, the only noise was the flowing water, and the quiet moment was welcome after the chaos of heat and pain that had been Jude’s domain.

Eventually, there came a noise of triumph from outside, Jon apparently having found whatever it was he was looking for. Between the cool water and the simple joy of being away from the burning building, Martin was already feeling a lot better by the time Jon walked back into the kitchen brandishing some sort of narrow cardboard box. Looking closer, Martin’s confusion only grew when he saw what it was.

“Jon, why did you go digging through that huge pile of stuff for a roll of clingfilm?” Jon looked up, and Martin could see the odd look that appeared on his face when he purposely Knew something starting to fade, replaced by the focus he’d held since he’d seen the burn.

“Oh, it’s for the burn. Keeps any infections from getting in more effectively than normal bandages for this kind of injury.” His eyes drifted down to Martin’s arm at the mention of his injury, face softening into a frown, and his voice was quieter when he spoke again. “How’s your arm doing?”

Taking that as his cue to check on it, he pulled his arm from under the tap, inspecting the burn. The angry red colour had faded to an irritated pink, and as he gently felt it with the back of his other hand the heat it gave off was much less intense.

“Better? It doesn’t hurt as much and it isn’t as red, so I think that’s a good sign?” He glanced up at Jon, but the other man was still staring at his arm, an absolutely wretched expression on his face. Before Martin could say anything though, he seemed to shake himself from whatever thoughts had trapped him in his head, brandishing the roll of clingfilm.

Almost painfully gently, he held Martin’s wrist, pulling his arm towards him and twisting so that he had complete access to his forearm. With that, he carefully laid the end of the plastic to one side of the burn and pulled the sheet taut over it. It was an odd sensation, not painful but not quite comfortable either. Jon passed the roll all the way around his arm to cover it fully, and then several more times to ensure it was properly secured. Seemingly satisfied with his handiwork, he observed it carefully, making sure every part of it was covered, before leaning down and laying a butterfly-light kiss right over the mark.

“There. We probably aren’t at risk from infection, but I’d rather not take any chances.” His voice was still quiet and he wasn’t looking Martin in the eye. “It should help with the pain as well, but I’ll check the pile and see if I can find any painkillers in a moment.” Martin tried to reply, to find the words to ask him what was bothering him, to discuss what happened in Jude’s domain, but it was like his throat had closed up. Jon turned away, heading for the door, and Martin knew he had to say something.

“Jon?” His head turned in acknowledgement, though he still wouldn’t fully meet Martin’s eyes. Martin stepped forward, reaching for Jon’s face with his uninjured arm and gently turning his head to face him. His expression was as wretched as before, and there was an ocean of guilt in his eyes, and Martin knew neither of them was ready to talk about it all in that moment. “Thank you. I love you.” Jon’s expression relaxed a little, still sad and guilty, but freed of some of it for just a moment. He leaned into Martin’s hand, closing his eyes with a sigh and covering his hand with his own.

“Of course. I love you too.” With that, he gave Martin’s hand a squeeze, pressed a kiss to his palm and hurried off to find said painkillers. Martin inspected his now plastic-wrapped arm, and carefully didn’t think about fire and oppressive heat and the sensation of barely being able to breathe through the smoke in his lungs. Instead, he focused on the memories of cool water over his arm, the feeling of Jon’s stubble under his palm, his soft sigh as he leaned into Martin’s touch. Martin could breathe, and he wasn’t alone. For now, that was enough.


End file.
